


The Sex Pollen Paradox

by DizzyDrea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Consent Issues, Gen, No Sex, Sex Pollen, Trope Bingo Round 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: Clint is exposed to what amounts to sex pollen on a mission. He doesn't react well. At all.





	The Sex Pollen Paradox

**Author's Note:**

> So, I got the sex pollen square on my Trope Bingo card this year, just about the time that #metoo was blowing up. I thought that instead of gratuitous sex, I'd look at the other side of the sex pollen issue, namely consent. In light of #metoo and #time'sup, I thought it was appropriate. While I haven't tagged this as non-con (because there's no actual sex in this story), it is a discussion of dubious consent as it relates to sex. If that's going to be an issue, please give this a pass. I won't be offended; I'd rather you take care of you.
> 
> For the _Sex Pollen_ square on my Trope Bingo card.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Avengers and all its particulars are the property of Marvel Studios, Walt Disney Studios, and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

Phil Coulson stood at the observation window watching his asset pace around his isolation ward restlessly. He'd tried sleeping, sitting up to read a book, watching tv, hell, he'd even tried meditating, which had made Phil want to laugh even if there was nothing remotely funny about the situation they were facing. 

The doctors had told them that expending energy wouldn't solve the problem; the drugs had to run their course and no amount of physical exertion would change that. But Clint Barton had never been particularly fond of the rules, so telling him not to do it was the fastest path to getting him to do it that Phil had ever found.

The door opened and closed behind him, but he barely acknowledged it. Either it was someone else coming to check on Clint—who wouldn't thank any of them for the effort; he hated being seen as weak, even if that's not how they saw him at all—or it was the doctor coming to try to talk him into just giving in to what the drugs wanted.

"Still pacing like a caged animal, I see."

Phil glanced at the doctor standing next to him. Doctor Brandt had been the only physician Clint would let near him the day they brought him in from the cold. When it became clear he wouldn't cooperate with anyone else, she'd become his physician of record. No other doctor would even try to triage his wounds at the end of a mission anymore; they all knew better after a few spectacular shouting matches that had ground Medical to a halt.

"He doesn’t like being trapped," Phil said. "Do you have something for me?"

Phil had been running interference with the doctor since the first tests came back, mostly because Clint had shouted at the doctor to leave and not come back until she could say something useful. He'd used quite a bit more colorful language, but that was the general gist.

"Maybe," Brandt said. "At least, we have an idea. We'll need to run it past him."

Phil didn't answer, just turned and headed for the airlock that isolated Clint from the rest of the facility. It wasn't, strictly speaking, necessary anymore; they'd determined within an hour of the team's return that the drugs they'd all been exposed to when the warehouse they were raiding blew up just moments after they'd left it wasn't persistent on clothing, nor was it airborne after the first few minutes of exposure.

They'd sent the rest of the team off to handle the problem on their own. Clint hadn't liked the doctor's suggestion, so he'd stayed put in the isolation ward until they could come up with a better one.

"Clint," Phil said as they entered.

"Thank fuck," Clint said, turning as they entered his room. "Please tell me you have something. I'm about to go out of my mind here."

Phil almost blushed as his asset turned around. Only years of practice at being calm in any and every situation kept him in check. But Christ, Clint's sweatpants were tented with what had to be, by this point, a very painful erection.

"Everyone else has either paired off or gone to find someone on their own," Brandt said. "The effects of the drugs are expected to wear off in the next six to ten hours, based on the half-life we've observed in the lab. I still say you should—"

Clint stopped her with a raised hand. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: getting dosed with sex pollen isn't my idea of a good time. I'll just ride it out, thanks."

"You do realize you could do yourself permanent harm if you let this go on, don't you?" Brandt asked with a frown.

"And you do realize that having sex with the first person I run into isn't exactly safe, sane or consensual?" Clint asked, sparing her a hard glare. "It comes pretty close to sexual assault, to be honest."

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" the doctor asked. "It's not like you're going to go out and rape someone. And it's not sex pollen. It's a bunch of drugs that, when combined, seems to reduce inhibitions. It's harmless."

"So you think a drug that kills my inhibitions about sex—one that takes away my ability, my right, to choose—is harmless?" He paced away, then turned and pointed at the doctor. "I'm not going out there and having sex with someone convenient just because the drug tells me it's okay. If I can't think straight enough to choose a partner that won't kill my career or ruin my life, then that's lack of consent on my part, and I'm not doing that to myself. I'm certainly not doing that to someone else, either."

"Doctor, if you don't have a practical solution for Specialist Barton, I'll ask you to leave and allow him to deal with this problem as he chooses," Phil said quietly.

Clint took a deep breath, still scowling at the doctor. Phil could feel his anger from across the room, as if it was a physical thing, filling up the whole room, leaving no space for anything else. They'd been having this same argument for the last two hours, but it felt more like two days for all the good it had done. 

Brandt was still standing there, stubbornly clutching Clint's chart. He knew she only had Clint's best interests in mind, but the fact that she kept pushing the same solution at them made it feel as though she had an agenda that was wholly separate from her oath as a physician.

Just when it seemed like the standoff might go on forever, the doctor's shoulders slumped. She shook her head, a rueful grin spreading on her face. "You are, without a doubt, the most stubborn asshole I've ever treated. And I've treated my fair share of assholes, let me tell you."

Clint smirked. "Didn't you know? The ability to be an asshole in any and every situation is in the job description."

"Right," Brandt said. "So, I think we can sedate you and pump your system full of vasoconstrictors and muscle relaxants for the next ten hours or so. You're going to be sore when you wake up, and you're probably not going to want to even think about sex, much less have an erection, for at least a couple of weeks afterwards. Which, frankly, is about what I expect from everyone else that was affected by the explosion. That's the best I can do under the circumstances."

"Thank you," Clint said. He took a deep breath and Phil could see all the muscles in his body unclench as he crawled up onto the bed and relaxed back.

"You are going to be why I retire early and escape to a deserted island in the middle of the fucking Pacific," Brandt said, wagging her finger at Clint.

Phil chuckled. "Join the club. Maybe we can start a resort for Hawkeye's former colleagues. Might be worth it if it'll help us keep our recruitment numbers up."

"Oh, fuck you, sir," Clint said with a grin. "I'm a dream to work with. Ask Natasha."

"Nope," Phil said, smiling at his asset as the doctor began gathering the supplies she'd need. "I'm not asking the woman you rescued from a kill order. You've brainwashed her, so she doesn't get an opinion on this. Besides, she puts up with a whole lot more from you than the rest of us combined."

Clint opened his mouth—likely to protest—then shut it. "Fair point."

"Uh huh," Phil said.

"You gonna be here, sir?" Clint asked, wincing as the doctor slid the needle for the IV into his arm. "Ow. Be nice."

Doctor Brandt gave him a withering glare, but Clint only smiled at her in return. Phil shook his head, unwillingly amused.

"I'm not leaving," he said. "But if I do need to, I'll make sure Natasha is here to watch your back."

Brandt pulled several preloaded syringes out of her lab coat pocket. She lined them up on the tray table, uncapping and inserting the first into the IV once she was satisfied that it was flowing properly. Phil narrowed his eyes at her, realizing that she must have anticipated that Clint would refuse to give in, so she'd brought everything she needed with her to the confrontation. 

He'd have to talk to her about all this at some point, because he didn't like the idea that she'd been trying to bully Clint into doing something he wasn't willing to do. But that was a problem for another day. He watched as Clint lay back and waited for the sedative to take effect.

Once Clint was out, she reconnected the heart and pulse-ox monitors and double-checked his vitals before she injected him with the other drugs she'd mentioned. When she turned to Phil, she had a sad, slightly frustrated look on her face.

"Thank you, Doctor Brandt," Phil said. "We will discuss this at a later date, but I appreciate your willingness to find an alternate solution for him."

Brandt huffed out a breath. "It's always my preference to find a solution that doesn't involve drugging my patient to the gills. That said, given his history, I should have known better. When he's recovered, I'll owe him an apology."

"He'll appreciate that," Phil said. 

He was slightly surprised, considering he thought he'd have to work a lot harder than that to get her to see reason, but maybe he'd underestimated her. She'd certainly underestimated Clint. He only hoped this didn't affect Clint's trust in her, or else they'd have to go find another doctor to recruit to the organization. He'd already rejected every other doctor they had on staff.

"They'll be monitoring him at the nurse's station, but I don't expect there to be any problems," she said. "I'll be back to check on him in an hour or so."

"I'll be here," Phil said, nodding. 

He watched Brandt fuss over Clint for a moment more before she took her leave. Phil settled into the chair by the bed and picked his tablet up from the nightstand, where he'd left it when the doctor came in the last time. He had emails to sort and reports to read, including a strongly-worded email to the Director refusing to loan out his asset to another team without his direct supervision. It was a recipe for disaster, and Phil hated the paperwork it generate.

He glanced up at Clint and frowned. Fuck the paperwork. He hated seeing his asset—his friend—in such a state, and he'd do everything in his power to make sure it never happened again.

~Finis


End file.
